


Green Defender: Haphephobia

by J_A_Phillips



Series: J.A. Phillips' Superhero Tales [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Detective Story, Detectives, Gen, Murder Mystery, Mystery, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo 2017, Police, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-01-28 05:57:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12599756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_A_Phillips/pseuds/J_A_Phillips
Summary: When a series of killings occurs in a dark city, a newly-transferred detective must learn the connection between the victims. As she does, though, she finds herself in the view-scope of the killer, the mob, and a strange vigilante cloaked in green, and it becomes clear that the mystery is far deeper than she ever could have imagined.This was originally going to be my NaNoWriMo project for 2017. Lemme know what you think of it. ^_^





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I start, I should probably make something about this project clear. This story is pretty much what I would do if I were tasked with writing a story about Batman where the character and his legacy are completely taken away and are having to be redone from scratch. So, this is my admission that, if you see a similarity to Batman in this story, it's very much intentional. I wanted to make the Green Defender's first story my own spin on the Batman mythos and the style of hero that Batman embodies: The street level vigilante who uses a lot of gadgets. That said, there IS a pretty different spin on it that, if you're patient, you might be pleasantly surprised by. ^_^

**Adam Hicks's Journal**   
**February 5th, 2011**

_We got a new science teacher today. He's actually a professor. Calls himself Professor Randal. Edward Randal. He seems...different somehow. Like, he's trying so hard to work with each student one-on-one, even on his first day. Comes off like he really cares about each one of us. I don't buy it, though. I'm sure he's just trying to impress someone. Either his students or his superiors. Whatever. I'll keep a close eye on this one. See what he does. I just worry is all. He's kind of...personal. I don't like it. If he wants to be my teacher, then he should know this: I don't trust teachers who try to be all buddy-buddy with me. Not since...well, not since, anyway. Even if he IS genuine, I just don't want any of that._

* * *

**November 4th, 2017**  
**10:27 PM  
** **Uptown St. Jonas**

Catherine Summers sighed as she stepped out of a pawn shop, having managed to make a few bucks off some of her older belongings. She'd just moved to St. Jonas as part of a requested police officer exchange from Star Lake, and despite having moved into a smaller apartment, she was still having a little trouble making ends meet in her new surroundings and situation. Still, having to sell off some of the stuff she did was heartbreaking, though she wondered if keeping them in the apartment as constant reminders would've been worse.

Stepping into her squad car for shelter from the cold evening shower, Detective Summers adjusted her rear-view mirror, and spotted sweat starting to form on her dark-skinned brow. Reaching into her trench coat's inside pocket, she pulled out her e-cigarette and took a long puff off of it, feeling a bit of her tension melt away. It wasn't quite as fulfilling as the real thing, but it would do, as she was trying to quit the habit slowly but surely.

"10-93, we have a robbery in progress at the St. Jonas Museum of the Arts on Banana Plaza, over," the police dispatcher called over the radio.

Catherine groaned, putting her e-cig down and turning the ignition on. "10-4, dispatch. On route. ETA, three minutes."

"Be advised, suspects are believed to be armed," the dispatcher went on as Catherine sped off for Banana Plaza uptown.

"Wonderful," Catherine muttered under her breath, suddenly very aware of the pistol holstered to her side.

* * *

**Meanwhile  
** **A few blocks away**

On the streets of St. Jonas, widely considered to be the cesspool of crime in Maine, a moving van was tearing through traffic, the occupants paying little care for anyone else on the streets. That was because the van was full of goods stolen from the St. Jonas Museum of the Arts by the five men inside, and rapidly approaching them were not one but three squad cars of St. Jonas's finest, sirens blaring.

"C'mon, lose 'em already!" one of the three men in the front of the van yelled at the driver.

"I'm trying to lose them, okay?!" the driver shouted, turning a sharp corner into a tunnel.

"Yer gonna try and shake 'em in the tunnel?" the last of the three crooks, sitting in the passenger seat, asked, getting a dirty look from the driver. "Okay, whatever. I'll be over here getting the caltrops ready..."

"Just make sure not to throw 'em under our OWN vehicle this time, huh?!" the first crook instructed before putting his Bluetooth in his ear. "Yo Gregory, Aiden, we're headin' down the tunnel! Everythin' still in one piece back there?!"

"Yeah, and we're fine back here too, Frankie!" Gregory, one of the two in the back of the van, yelled back over his cell. "Just in case you were wondering!"

"Just sit tight for now!" Frankie shouted.

Gregory rolled his eyes, hanging up his cell. "God, can you believe that guy?! I did NOT sign on for this!"

Aiden, who was sitting in the corner of the van, scoffed before replying in a thick irish accent, "And what DID you sign on for? You knew this was gonna be hell."

"I signed on for guaranteed cash, and an easy escape!" Gregory replied, folding his arms. "Not for Dennis to fudge up hacking the security and getting us busted by the cops!"

"Funny how that happened," Aiden muttered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "Seemed like Dennis had the security system figured out."

Gregory shrugged. "Hey, y'mind? I need to take the edge off."

Aiden got up and stumbled over to Gregory's side, trying not to topple over with the van veering around cars in the tunnel. Once he got over, he flipped the pack open, and to Gregory's bafflement, the pack wasn't containing cigarettes, but what looked like small needles of some sort.

"...Whoa, dude, what the hell have you been packing?!" Gregory demanded.

"Eh, mostly benzodiazepine," Aiden replied, grabbing a needle he'd had hidden in his glove and sticking it into Gregory's neck.

Gregory immediately stumbled back and slid down to the floor of the van. Aiden turned around and pulled his heavy clothes off to reveal a completely different set of clothes underneath, but Gregory's vision was becoming too blurred to properly make it out. He was, however, able to make out the face mask and wig that was dropped to the floor in front of him, then looked up to see a shadowy figure in a hooded cape standing over him.

"By the way, smoking's bad for your body," 'Aiden' said to Gregory, dropping the accent and speaking through a voice modulator as the former passed out.

Meanwhile, in the front of the van, the driver was trying desperately to lose the cops in the increasingly crowded tunnel. He let himself smile out of relief as it looked like he'd succeeded in getting several vehicles and a lot of distance between them and the police cars. Just as he did, though, the engine began to struggle and stutter before it died.

"What the hell?!" Frankie cursed in the front of the van, slapping the man in the passenger seat in the back of the head. "Dennis! Did you forget gas?!"

"No, I swear, I filled the tank before we started the operation!" Dennis insisted, covering up.

"He's right!" the driver yelled as the van came to a stop. "The indicator on the tank was still almost full! The engine must've died!"

"This is a brand new van!" Frankie roared. "How the hell does the engine in a brand new van freakin' DIE?!"

As if in answer, the hinges of the driver's side door were suddenly sliced through, green sparks flying off of them. The crooks immediately opened the other door and fled out it, just as the driver's side door was hauled clean off. They headed around to the back of the van, only to find the doors open with Gregory's unconscious form dangling by a large steel staple jammed into the left door around his wrists.

"Oh shit!" the driver cursed, drawing his gun. "It's HIM, isn't it?!"

"He's just a myth, you dumbass!" Frankie yelled, all the while grabbing what he could from the van and leading the two around the vehicles stopped around them in the tunnel and then into an emergency exit. Inside, the crooks found a long, dark hallway leading to stairs. The three were hurrying along as the sound of sirens could be heard, hoping to escape with what loot they had, when they heard the door behind them slam shut. The driver whipped around and unloaded a clip into the darkness.

"Where is he?!" the driver screamed in terror. "WHERE IS HE?!"

"Calm the hell down!" Frankie shouted, knocking the gun from the driver's hands. "He doesn't exist, you hear me?! HE DOESN'T EXIST!"

Suddenly, the ventilation shaft above the three in the hall was busted open, a blur of green and black dropping down on Frankie and flooring him with an elbow to the head. The driver fell to the ground, desperately reaching for his gun as the group's attacker drew a weapon of his own: Some sort of taser, which shocked the driver and knocked him out. That just left Dennis, who grabbed the fallen grate from the shaft and tried to shove it at the costumed vigilante. The latter reacted quickly, grabbing it with both hands and hauling it out of Dennis's, tossing it to the ground. Dennis shook in fear as his foe took a single step toward him, turning to run away, but instead tripping on a portrait Frankie had grabbed and falling face first to the ground. Before he could crawl away, he felt the vigilante's knee in the small of his back.

"Dennis Dell, wanted on two counts of petty theft and one count of grand theft," the man in the costume declared, his voice altered by his voice modulator to make him sound almost like a demon. "Quite a few less than your friends here. Don't suppose that means I can trust you to be more cooperative than them?"

"Wh-What do you want from me?!" Dennis demanded, groaning through the pain.

"Information," the interrogator explained, releasing Dell and shoving him against the wall, allowing Dennis the chance to properly look at him. He wore a dark green hooded cape over a green domino mask and a black jumpsuit of some sort. Dennis could make out the outline of what looked like a green bird on the man's chest. He pinned Dennis against the wall with green gloves. Without a doubt, this was the man they called a myth. The man internet bloggers were calling 'The Green Defender'.

"How many more operations does your gang have planned?" the vigilante asked.

"G-Gang?!" Dennis responded. "Wh-What gang?! It's just me and the rest of Frankie's guys-"

"Who take orders from Alberto Tribbiani," the Green Defender interjected, tightening his grip on Dell's shoulder as he held his taser in front of his face, which was sparking green light. "Lie to me again and see what happens."

"...Just one more that I know about!" Dennis admitted. "It's a trade for some weapons! But it's happening tonight! There's no way you'll reach it in time!"

"Where?" Green Defender inquired, bringing the taser closer.

"At the construction site on the east side!" Dell cried as he wet himself.

"...See, that wasn't so hard," GD replied before shutting off the taser. "In fact, you've been so cooperative, here's something that'll help you: Try liquigel ibuprofen."

Dennis was baffled at this statement. "..F-For wh-"

Before Dell could finish, the Green Defender quickly headbutted him in the skull, stunning Dennis and sending him tumbling to the ground. The vigilante then ran up the stairs out of the tunnel. As soon as he was out, the door busted open, Detective Summers entering with two other officers with their guns drawn. Dennis immediately held his hands up in surrender.

"The hell is going on?" Catherine asked one of the other officers as they went to work cuffing all three crooks.

"Sounds like he beat us to the punch," the officer replied with a scoff as he pulled Dennis to his feet. "It was him, wasn't it? Where'd he go?"

Catherine blinked, baffled. "Where'd who go? Who's 'he'?"

* * *

**11:02 AM  
** **East Side St. Jonas**

Standing on the sixth floor of the building being built in the east side construction site, mob boss Alberto Tribbiani was keeping an eye on his watch, just as he saw the lift reach where he and three of his associates were waiting. Two men in black suits walked out of the lift, carrying two briefcases each. Tribbiani quickly tilted his head at his goons, leading them to check the briefcases. Sure enough, they contained the assault rifles he'd ordered.

"Excellent," Tribbiani exclaimed, holding out his own briefcase, which was filled with thousand dollar bills. "A pleasure doing business with you."

"...Sir?" one of Alberto's men interjected, holding a hand to the Bluetooth in his ear. "Just got word, Frankie's operation was a bust. They've all been taken in."

"Best be leaving then, before one of them squeals," Tribbiani declared, finishing the exchange.

"Kind of late for that," a voice muttered in the dark, just before Green Defender suddenly dropped down from the floor above them, kicking down one of Tribbiani's goons.

"Shoot him!" Tribbiani yelled, the rest of his men taking the weapons in the briefcases and aiming them at GD. Unfortunately for them, he was more than ready, having already drawn some sort of tiny spheres from his belt and thrown them straight down, releasing a series of bright, green flashes into the eyes of the gunmen before they could finish pulling the triggers. Just as the men started to get their vision back, the Green Defender leaped toward them, punching one goon in the face and knocking him to the floor out cold, before elbowing the other in the gut, causing him to drop his gun and stumble back.

Tribbiani growled at this, getting behind the two that brought him the weapons. "Okay, I don't usually do this, but I'm willing to pay double if you off the Green Defender. Interested?"

The two men nodded, reaching into their coats to draw machetes of all things, to which Green Defender sighed and drew his taser sidearm from his belt. Pressing a switch on the side, the two wires suddenly retracted inside as the front of the weapon began to spark with a bright green light, almost like a stun gun. "Alright, if you really feel the need to embarrass yourselves..."

The thugs lunged forward, swiping and stabbing at GD with their blades as he fought to dodge them. Both men stabbed their machetes forward, the Green Defender arching his back to avoid them as they crossed overhead, then threw his feet up from under himself to knock the machetes from the men's hands. A quick kip up later, GD managed to jab them both one at a time in the sides with his stun gun, releasing small jolts of electricity into them and sending them falling to the ground. Seeing this, Tribbiani attempted to make a run for the lift, only to be caught in the back of the leg by something hard and falling to the ground. He glanced back and saw the Green Defender walk menacingly toward him, a pair of zip-ties in his hands.

"S-Stay away from me!" Alberto screamed, drawing his own concealed pistol, only for GD to kick it out of his hands before hauling him up by his collar.

"It's over, Tribbiani," Green Defender said, pinning the mob boss against a steel beam before zip-tying his hands together around it. "The police will be here for you soon enough. Hope you enjoy the luxury of your new jail cell."

"You don't know shit, freak!" Tribbiani spat. "I'll be back on the streets by tomorrow!"

GD slowly smirked, much to Alberto's confusion. "Funny thing about that: Even if you make bail from this, I somehow doubt your cronies will. And when I've managed to get every last one of them off the streets, there won't be anyone left to work for you. I wonder just how long you'll be able to stay out of prison when you're forced to dirty your own hands?"

Tribbiani growled through grit teeth, only for the sound of an incoming police helicopter to divert his attention. Turning back to face the Green Defender, he found him to already be headed to the edge of the floor they were standing on, having picked up his fallen stun baton.

"And where ya planning to go from there, huh?!" Tribbiani demanded. "Gonna FLY from the cops?"

The Green Defender didn't answer, simply turning back to Tribbiani, grinning, and tipping the edge of his hood before stepping backwards off the floor and falling from the building, much to Tribbiani's shock. A SWAT team filed out of the chopper as it landed atop the roof and made their way to the scene of the fight, quickly placing Tribbiani and his men under arrest.

Meanwhile, on the streets below, Detective Summers had pulled up in her car. Before she could radio the chopper to ask what was going on, she looked up just in time to see the slightest hint of the Green Defender. Her eyes widened in awe as his cape opened up to resemble a pair of bird wings. He sailed through the air like some sort of emerald eagle or avenging angel before disappearing into the dark shadows cast by the buildings around him.

_What the hell kind of freakshow city did I move into?_  Catherine wondered, gripping her e-cig tightly in one hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**November 5th, 2017**  
**11:29 PM  
** **East Side St. Jonas**

Detective Summers let out a low, agonized growl as she hung up her phone. She'd barely been in St. Jonas for three days, and not only had she had to sell off several of her belongings, not only did she find herself in the middle of some kind of comic book story with some guy in a cape playing superhero by going outside the law and beating up criminals, but now her microwave had stopped working. This was a bit of a problem for her, since she barely knew how to cook at all, something her ex-husband often complained about.

On a tip from one of the other officers on the force, Sergeant Daniel Drake, Catherine had decided to call a small-time electrician, a Mr. Sanders, who was known for being easy to get along with and undercharging his customers. Drake even referred to him as "St. Jonas' best kept secret". It sounded too good to be true. So, naturally, she got an answering machine. And based on the fact that it was already pretty late in the evening, odds were good he wasn't coming tonight.

Catherine sighed hard, turning for the bathroom.  _Fuck it, I haven't showered all day, and he's not coming tonight…_

Stripping her clothes off as she made her way to the shower, the Detective turned the taps to get the water to the temperature she liked. This took a little trial and error, though, since the taps seemed a bit more finicky than the ones at her old place. The slightest twist of one drastically changed the temperature. Eventually, she found her optimal temperature and got in, letting herself sigh in relief as the water washed over her and through her hair.

As she grabbed the soap and started lathering up her skin, though, Catherine's mind went back to the previous night, after the insanity that had occurred. A man in green, sailing through the air after beating up a group of criminals and leaving them all but gift-wrapped for the police. It sounded like something out of an old pulp hero comic. She remembered talking to Chief Thomas about the Green Defender, and how he seemed to dodge most of her questions about him. It felt like he wouldn't confirm his existence, but he wasn't denying it, either.

_Probably to save face,_  Catherine reasoned as she washed herself.  _This Green Defender guy is out there somewhere, beating up criminals, and delivering the mob bosses the SJPD can't bring in on their own to their doorstep. Of course he's a myth, then. If people knew for sure that he was real, the SJPD would be seen as a joke. Or worse, they'd been viewed as openly allowing a vigilante to take the law into his own hands. Someone could have them shut down with that knowledge, and then what?_

After a while, Catherine finished up in the shower, having spent the entirety of her time washing up arguing with herself about whether this Green Defender was really a good thing for the city or not. She was just about done drying herself off when she heard a knock at the door. Putting her bathrobe on, she peered through the eyehole of her door, and was shocked to find that, standing on the other side of it, was a red haired fellow in his mid-twenties wearing rubber gloves and carrying a toolbox filled with equipment used for fixing electronic appliances.

"...Hello?" the man asked. "Is this Miss Catherine Summers' apartment? You called about your microwave?"

"Oh, y-yes!" Catherine stammered, unlocking and opening the door. "Sorry, you just caught me getting out of the shower. I figured when I couldn't get ahold of you-"

"Well, if this is a bad time, I could always come back tomorrow," the electrician replied, rubbing the back of his neck and keeping his gaze on Catherine's face, a bit embarrassed at the sight of her in a bathrobe.

"No, it's fine," Catherine said hastily, opening the door wider to allow her visitor in while tightening her robe around herself. "Microwave is set up next to the fridge, Mr. Sanders."

"Right," the electrician said with a nod, making his way in. "And by all means, detective, call me Geoff."

"How'd you know-" Catherine started to ask.

"Car parked out front has a siren sitting in the passenger seat," Geoffrey Sanders explained.

"Okay, Mister Invasion-Of-Privacy," Summers muttered, her eyes narrowed.

Catherine watched as Geoffrey made his way to the microwave, giving it a look-over. As a detective, she couldn't help analysing this new person. It was actually something she did regularly. He was slouching a little bit, but she could tell he had a better frame than he wanted people to think. Based on how friendly he seemingly was with his clients, she guessed this was to make himself unimposing.

_Sure, make yourself look non-threatening so the poor lady won't be afraid to let you in,_  Summers thought while fighting the urge to scoff, all while Sanders unscrewed a plate off of the microwave and peered inside.  _Nevermind the fact that I'm a bloody cop and could probably kick your ass, and you know it..._

"Uh huh, I see the problem," Geoff declared suddenly, looking into the microwave with a flashlight. "Looks like you've got a faulty fuse. You haven't been slamming the door, have you?"

Catherine was about to say no, when she suddenly remembered something that caused her to groan and facepalm. "Ugh, YES. I was having an...an argument, and…"

"Someone got you to slam the microwave door hard enough to blow the fuse?" Sanders asked. "Who?"

"My...my husband," Summers admitted. "Well, ex-husband."

"I see," Geoff said with a sigh, hiking a thumb to some boxes in the corner of the room. "That explains those. Where'd you leave HIM?"

"Star Lake," Catherine answered as Geoffrey reached into his belt, pulling out what looked to be a spare fuse. "...You knew that was the problem before you even came in the door, didn't you?"

"You're not exactly the first person to call because of a blown fuse," Sanders explained, carefully removing the faulty fuse before replacing it. "And like I told them, if you don't know much about appliances, the smartest thing you can do is call me and not try to fix it yourself."

"Uh huh," Catherine muttered, looking away.

"...So, any kids?" Geoff inquired, changing the subject.

"Just the one," Summers answered. "Staying with him."

"...I'm sorry," Geoffrey said, closing the panel and screwing it shut. "That's gotta be harsh."

"It is," Catherine admitted. "And before you get any ideas, I didn't get a divorce and move up here to start anything with anyone else. I have zero romantic aspirations, and that's how it's going to remain."

Inwardly, Catherine flinched slightly at herself and her own tone. She hadn't meant to be so sharp with Sanders, who was just there to do his job. It's just that bringing up her family had dug up a wound that was still too fresh to properly heal. When she and her husband realized they couldn't make their marriage work anymore, it was decided by the courts that their daughter, Leslie, would stay with her father. Why? Well, because it was agreed that, between being a cop and having a smoking addiction, Catherine posed too great a risk to Leslie's development, and her plans to leave Star Lake for St. Jonas didn't help matters.

"I'm not prying in an attempt to seduce you, ma'am," Geoff replied in a deadpan tone. "I'm just chatty while I work."

"Right," the detective muttered, sounding unconvinced. "Anyway, what'll that be?"

"I'll send you the bill in the morning," Geoff answered, confusing Catherine. "You look like you've had a rough day, and I have other clients to visit."

"...Oh," Catherine said simply, moving aside for the electrician to take his leave. "Alright then."

Sanders nodded as he left, but stopped in the doorway. "...So, what about friendships?"

"Pardon?" Catherine asked, not understanding what that was supposed to mean.

"Well, you said you have no romantic aspirations," Geoff explained, turning back to face her with a smile. "Could you use a friend instead?"

Finally, Catherine managed a small smile as she held the door. "Goodnight, Mr. Sanders."

"Geoff, remember?" the electrician reminded her, stepping into the hall for Catherine to close the door behind him.

Summers shook her head, smirking as she locked the door.  _Well, he was a charmer...Still not dating him, though. But, I guess if I HAVE to make new friends in this town, I could do worse…_

* * *

**Less than an hour later**   
**South End St. Jonas**

Alberto Tribbiani growled as he shut the door to his home behind him. True to form, he DID manage to make bail after his arrest within a day. However, just like the Green Defender had said, his men didn't, and probably wouldn't. He'd lost out on the deal, and was now going to be a bit lower on hired hands.

Tribbiani grit his teeth hard as he made his way over to his favourite chair. All he could think about on the drive home from the police department was the Green Defender's sly little smirk. It was all he wanted to have been able to reach out and break his face with his bare hands.

_If I ever see that green-hooded punk ever again…_  Alberto thought as he sat in his chair.  _This city's trouble enough, I don't need freaks like him flying around making it worse._

Reaching to a tray he had set up next to his chair, Tribbiani grabbed the remote for his TV and hit the power button. However, nothing happened. He pressed it again, and still nothing. Finally, after two more tries, he got up in a huff and stomped over to the television, looking it over.

"Oh, what the hell?" Alberto demanded. "Still plugged in, so what's wrong with the-GURK!"

Tribbiani stopped in the middle of his rant as he felt something stab into his side. Looking down, he saw a sickly looking hand with long nails jabbing into him, and he felt seemingly everything in his body starting to freeze up. Before he could cry for help, another hand reached out and clasped itself over his mouth, muffling his voice. His whole body was slowly going limp, but his eyes were still wide open, and he could see himself being dragged toward his closet, to which he began to panic even more.

"I just want you to know, Alberto, that this isn't personal," a voice whispered as the unseen assailant hauled Tribbiani into his closet and closed the door behind the two. At that point, the muffled screams only got louder and louder over the next few minutes, until they eventually died off completely, leaving the apartment in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Adam Hicks's Journal  
** **February 17th, 2011**

_Professor Randal has been taking an interest in my work in class. Asking questions, testing my knowledge, even asking me if I want to help him with some of his own extracurricular projects. So far, he hasn't really done much of anything to make me TOO suspicious of him, but...Well, I think I'll go along with it for now, but if he's got ANYTHING planned, I'm ready for him…_

* * *

**November 6th, 2017**  
10:52 AM  
**South End St. Jonas**

Catherine reached up and wiped her brow as she finally ascended the last flight of stairs in the apartment complex. She'd been called in to help with the investigation of the crime scene, which had been taped off so that no one else could get anywhere near the apartment in question. The cop guarding the door quickly offered her the required gloves and shoe covers, which she slipped on before entering the living space of one Alberto Tribbiani.

There were two officers inside of the apartment: Daniel Drake, the redheaded Sergeant who had suggested Geoffrey Sanders to her, and a balding Asian man, Corporal Jonathan Kane. Catherine couldn't help but notice right away that they seemed to be having a bit of a hushed conversation when Summers entered, and both seemed to be a bit on the pale side. Seeing her there, they cut their talk short.

"Detective Summers," Daniel greeted. "Body's in the closet."

Catherine nodded, making her way over. "We have a time of death?"

"Looks to be sometime last night," Drake explained, gesturing to the closet where Tribbiani's corpse laid. "Talked to the super, he said he saw Alberto walk into the building last night at around 12:25."

"Which means he came straight over after making bail and leaving SJPD," Jonathan pointed out as he stood leaning over the body of Alberto Tribbiani.

"One of his enemies decided to spring a surprise visit on him?" Summers inquired, getting shrugs in response. "Any theories on the cause of death?"

"Well, that's the funny thing," Kane went on, shining a flashlight over Tribbiani's left side. Looking closely, Catherine spotted what looked to be five puncture wounds, with sickly looking lines spreading out from them. "It looks like he was injected with some kind of toxin, but the holes look completely different from syringes."

Catherine leaned in close, looking at the puncture wounds. Having been on more than her fair share of crime scene investigations, due to the lack of trained personnel in the Star Lake Police Department, she immediately saw what Kane meant: The holes seemed a bit too wide and curved to have been caused by needles. In fact, looking them over, and the space between them, only one possibility felt right to her.

"...Fingernails," Detective Summers muttered, stroking her chin.

"My thoughts exactly," Jon replied. "Maybe the killer's nails were laced with some sort of poison."

"So why drag him into the closet?" Catherine contemplated. "What's the point of hiding the body there?"

"Well, that's where this gets kinda dark," Daniel explained. "We won't know for sure until the autopsy, but it doesn't look like the poison killed him."

Summers blinked in confusion. "Then what did?"

"Terminal heart failure," Drake answered, getting a bewildered look in response. "Alberto Tribbiani's file suggests that he suffered from claustrophobia. Apparently, he kept yelling for a bigger cell when he was down at headquarters. This closet's kinda small, cramped."

"He was scared to death," Catherine surmised. "So the drugs were just to help get him in there."

"Again, difficult to say for sure in lieu of an autopsy, but based on what I've seen so far, I think that's where this is headed," Corporal Kane responded.

"So, who's our best lead?" Summers asked. "Did you find any fingerprints on the closet door?"

"A few, but they were so smudged up, they barely looked like they belonged to a human being," Drake declared, looking away. "We're dusting the rest of the apartment to see what we can find."

Catherine rested a hand on her hip. "...You don't seem all that confident about that."

Daniel sighed, nodding before leading Catherine away to the other side of the apartment. "...Okay. So, here's the thing. Jon and I? We've seen this before."

"When?" Summers demanded.

"About a year ago, we found an ex-Mafia hitman dead in his garage," Dan explained. "Same puncture wounds. We never found the one responsible."

"So someone's hunting down criminals and killing them," Catherine muttered, rubbing her temples. "And let me guess: Chief Thomas eventually let the whole thing sort of fade out of the realm of the important?"

"Yahtzee," Sergeant Drake replied. "We've been working a few leads since, connecting it to other murders of known criminal associates in the city of St. Jonas. It's just us working it, though, so we could use the extra mind to bounce ideas with."

"My shift is over at 8," Catherine whispered, glancing back at Jon. "We'll meet at the coffee shop on Loeb Street." Daniel nodded, heading back over to talk with Jon before Catherine stopped him. "Oh, and before I forget, I called that electrician you mentioned, Geoffrey Sanders? Got my microwave working just fine."

"What'd I tell ya?" Dan said with a grin. "St. Jonas' best kept secret."

Catherine smirked, rolling her eyes as she exited the apartment. She headed down the stairs of the apartment building, eventually making her way out the front door and down the front steps. She started to walk toward her car parked by the sidewalk, but stopped as she spotted something on the other side of the road: It was a moped, which was a bit odd to find in a city like this. But what surprised her far more was who was squatted down beside it, looking over the engine, with a tool case laid down next to them.

"...I didn't know you worked vehicles, too!" Catherine called over, getting the ginger electrician's attention.

Geoffrey Sanders waved a gloved hand, smiling. "I don't! Not usually, anyway! She's mine!"

"Sounds like you could use a mechanic!" Summers suggested as she made her way across the road.

"Nah, I got this," Geoff insisted as he looked back to the engine, fiddling with it as the detective came to a halt to his side. "She's just being Miss Cranky Pants."

Catherine snickered a little at this. "...'Miss Cranky Pants', huh?"

"So what brings you all the way over here this morning?" Sanders inquired. "Something going on in there?"

"That's classified information, sir," Summers pointed out, arms folded. "I mean, I could tell you, but then I'd have to either kill you or put you in witness protection."

"Oh, well then you better not tell me, 'cuz there's no way I could do my job like that," Geoff joked before testing the ignition, pumping his fist as the moped came to life. "Ha! See? Just gotta know how to sweet-talk to her."

"Uh-huh," Catherine replied. "Anyway, it was nice seeing you again."

"You too," Geoffrey remarked, getting on the moped and putting his tools away. "So, anymore thought on the whole friendship offer?"

"Still trying to decide if I like you at all, or if you just annoy me," Catherine admitted, taking a step back.

Geoff sighed, putting his helmet on. "Ah. Well then, I probably shouldn't expect an answer anytime soon, considering how long it usually takes people to decide that with me."

Catherine shook her head, laughing a little as Sanders peeled off on his moped. She watched as he turned off the road before heading back to her car. It wasn't until she got in, though, that the detective in her started to note how odd it was that he happened to be there at just the right time to catch her leaving the scene of the crime. And while she eventually decided to shrug it off as a coincidence, her subconsciousness nonetheless filed the moment away, somehow knowing it'd be important later.

"All units in the south end, we have a disturbance at Princess Iris Mall!" the dispatcher yelled over the police radio. "Suspect is believed to be Magnus Pike! Consider him incredibly dangerous!"

Catherine blinked in confusion. She'd never heard of this Magnus Pike individual, but from the tone of the dispatcher's voice, they sounded like a big deal. It seemed a bit odd that she hadn't been briefed on someone like that. Still, she knew she wasn't far from Princess Iris Mall, and that, if someone like that was causing a disturbance, she was likely in the best position to respond first.

"10-4, dispatch," Catherine responded, revving up the car. "On route. ETA, six minutes."


	4. Chapter 4

**November 6th, 2017**  
11:09 AM  
Uptown St. Jonas

Pulling up to the main entrance to Princess Iris Mall in the middle of the uptown area, Catherine watched as people fled from the building. Which wasn't too hard, seeing as how the glass and metal doors had seemingly been torn clean off their hinges. Two men were carrying a woman out, who was seemingly unconscious and, from the looks of her, had a broken arm, blood running down the sides of it.

The detective gulped slightly before checking her gun, making sure it was loaded, just in case. With that out of the way, she exited the car and approached the entrance, spotting another police car pull up not far from her, two more officers jogging up to meet her. She couldn't help but notice the sweat running down the two men's faces before she backed up to the wall next to the doors, peering in through them. It looked like a tornado had been through the main hall, with benches overturned and shattered and light fixtures ripped down out of the ceiling.

"No visual of this Pike guy, but I can see he's been busy redecorating," Summers reported to the other two officers. "For the sake of the newbie, don't suppose you can let me know exactly what we're in for?"

"A drug-dealer who is more than a little hooked on his own stuff," one officer, a grey-haired fellow named Williams, replied, checking his ammo. "Maybe we should wait for more reinforcements?"

"People are getting hurt, maybe even killed," Catherine answered, eyes narrowed. "Right now? We ARE the reinforcements."

With that, the trio of police officers made their way inside the mall, making sure to make proper use of whatever cover they could find as they followed the sounds of crashing and smashing. Eventually, the came to a smoke shop connected to a grocery store. Inside, the man at the cash register was being accosted by a rather large and jacked man, close to seven feet tall, with a shaved head, wearing an orange tank top and brown work jeans. Violet lines ran across his body, seemingly pulsing with a subtle light every few seconds.

"I'm gonna ask one more time," the large man growled. "Gimme a name, gimme a GODDAMN NAME, YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

"Mag, I swear, I don't know!" the man at the cash register pleaded. "Please, I didn't know what they were gonna do to you, I swear!"

"YOU SWEAR?!" the attacker, Magnus Pike, roared as he pulled the cash register clean off the counter and threw it through a window. He then grabbed the man running the store and held him up by his throat. "Make sure they know that when you get to the gates, old friend, so they know to send your sorry ass to Hell!"

"Put him down!" Summers yelled, drawing her gun and training it on Pike. "Sir, put him down and turn around, slowly!"

Magnus' eyes narrowed, dropping the target of his rage to the floor before turning around, somewhat amused at all of this. "...You must be new around here. It's been awhile since any cops had the balls to challenge me head on."

"Sir, put your hands on your head and come quietly," Catherine replied as calmly as possible before Pike took a step towards her, sneering menacingly. "I'm warning you, Pike!"

Magnus scoffed, clenching a fist tightly. "You really ARE new. Most cops in the field don't even bother calling me that anymore. Nowadays, they just call me...Overdose."

As Detective Summers looked on, the lines running across Pike's body started to glow a little, illuminating his skin. To her disgust, his muscles started to twitch and expand a bit, his body growing past the seven foot mark. He took another step, this one more of a stomp, and the detective aimed and fired a warning shot across his left arm. While it barely grazed him at all, Overdose didn't even show any signs whatsoever of being hurt.

Before she could take another shot, Catherine found the massive man right in her face and giving what looked to be barely a push, which managed to send her falling on her backside to the floor with a thud. Wincing in pain, she scrambled back out of the smoke shop as her fellow officers got between her and her assaulter. They quickly got two more shots in, piercing his shoulder and grazing his thigh, but Overdose actually swatted them both aside. Williams in particular seemed to hit the floor rather hard, crying out as he clutched his right arm.

Getting to her feet, Summers raised her gun again, only to find Pike's hand now gripping it and her hand tightly in his own, and she let out a yelp as she felt him start to slowly try and crush her bones. "I've always wanted to see how much a broken hand affects aiming and shooting a pistol. Let's find out, shall we?"

The detective's eyes widened in horror, but before Pike could begin to grip her any tighter, the lights in the entire building suddenly went out. The only illumination now was coming from the lines running across Overdose's body, and what sunlight was coming through the windows of the smoke shop behind him. However, the latter was soon blocked out as massive steel doors came down around the entrance to it, locking it down and keeping Overdose out.

_What the hell?_  Catherine thought, looking around in bafflement.

Looking into Overdose's eyes, Detective Summers could see he was staring down the hall, his eyes narrowed in a deadly gaze. Looking that way as well, squinting her eyes as best as she could, she thought she could make out the faint outline of someone standing not too far away. It wasn't until a moment later, when said figure released a green spark of light from something in his hand, that she could make out the trademark green hooded cape of St. Jonas' vigilante. As soon as the spark faded from view, however, there was no sign of him.

"...I'll be happy to let the newest member of St. Jonas' finest leave with little more than a broken wrist if you stay out of my way," Overdose declared confidently, despite the bead of sweat that Catherine noticed running down the side of his head.

"You'll put her down now, or the only one leaving with a broken wrist is you," the Green Defender's distorted voice retorted through the mall speakers.

"The last time we met, you almost left with a broken SKULL," Pike pointed out, his eye twitching. "You keep this shit up, and I'll finish the job. You understand?"

There was no reply. Instead, a few seconds later, the sound of fingers snapping, followed by green sparks flying, went off several feet to Magnus' left, briefly revealing the Jade Thunderbird. With a growl, Overdose dropped Catherine to the floor, but kept her gun in his hand, keeping it aimed in the direction of where the sparks had went off. He slowly crept toward where GD was, only for, a few moments afterward, the sound of a snap and sparks to sound the exact same distance away, only down the opposite direction. Magnus spun around and opened fire, catching absolutely nothing with the bullets.

"COME OUT!" Pike roared, throwing the gun to the floor before prying a bench up and lifting it over his head. "I SWEAR TO GOD, I'LL BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR BO-"

Before the juiced-up drug dealer could finish his threat, he felt a powerful jolt of electricity in the back of his neck, forcing him to stumble forward and drop the bench to the floor. Magnus swung a closed fist backward, only to get a brilliant flash of light in the face, momentarily blinding him. As he backed off, trying to get his vision back, he found himself getting punched in the bridge of the nose, and getting a stun gun slammed into the bullet wounds to his arm and thigh, making him growl in agitation.

Catherine tried her best to watch the brawl unfold, despite the lack of light. All she had to illuminate the fight was the glow from the lines across Overdose, which seemed to be dimming, and the occasional green spark or flash. It didn't seem possible for this costumed vigilante to be able to fight this jacked-up monster of a man, but the more she watched, the more his strategy unfolded. It was clear he was looking to wear Magnus out, getting him infuriated and hitting more disabling blows while dodging the far more devastating attacks from the drug dealer. But the rate at which the hooded hero was dancing around him seemed impossible.

_Seriously, what in the living fuck is going on with this city?!_  Summers thought.

" **JUST DIE ALREADY!** " Overdose screamed as he finally managed to catch the Green Defender with a clothesline, knocking his hood back and sending him sliding across the floor and into a wall while his gun skidded away.

Magnus let out a horrid-sounding roar, charging the fallen hero as he laid on the ground. Before he could slam his boot straight through him, though, he found a dart being flung into his bicep by the Green Defender, causing him to wobble a little in mid-run. As Summers watched on, the Jade Thunderbird managed to get to kick both feet out, catching Pike in the leg hard enough to send the already wobbly thug crashing head-first into the steel shutters closed around the smoke shop. Overdose stumbled a bit in a daze, his strength rapidly leaving him as pain and fatigue were finally taking over, just in time for the Green Defender to get to his feet, wrap both arms around the drug dealer's mid-section, and suplex him backwards into the floor, knocking him out cold.

As the Green Defender got back to his feet, pulling his hood back up over his red hair, he heard a clicking sound and turned to face Detective Summers, aiming her pistol in his general direction despite the lack of light. "...Appreciate the save, but I'm gonna need you to come down to the station now."

"Sorry, can't stay," GD replied, dropping a green smoke pellet the further enshrouded him. "...Welcome to St. Jonas, detective."

Catherine held her shirt collar up to her mouth, doing her best not to breathe in the green smoke from the pellet. Within a few seconds, however, she found the lights coming back on, just as the smoke started to dissipate. There was no sign of the Green Defender anywhere, nor his fallen stun gun. Pike was left laying unconscious on the floor, his musculature returning to normal. Luckily for him, though, the powerful shocks to his bullet wounds seemed to at least partially cauterize them, preventing him from bleeding to death.

Summers knelt down, pulling the dart from Magnus' arm. On closer inspection, it was some sort of metal dart fashioned to resemble the feather of a bird. The very tip of it had some sort of fluid on it. She couldn't be sure, but she had a feeling it was a kind of fast-working anesthetic. After all, Pike had started to wobble pretty much as soon as he was struck with the dart.

_Just who or what IS this guy, anyway?_  Catherine wondered, her fellow officers finally starting to come to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, figured now's a good time to talk about the antagonist of this chapter: Magnus Pike, AKA Overdose. Before I decided on a name, his stand-in name was Popper...which is awful. lol Regardless, in much the same way that Green Defender is an expy for Batman, Overdose is KIND OF an expy of Bane, but minus his genius. Pike is just a brute, but a VERY dangerous one, as shown by what he did to the mall. Really, it's only because GD had previous experience fighting him and getting to know his general fighting style and weaknesses that he managed to escape that fight without lasting, major injuries.


End file.
